Chapter 27
“—so he grabbed me again in the wings,” Stevie says, shaking her head, “and I stood there, saying nothing. I just kind of let him hug me.”
“Did he know what a grip was supposed to do before this?”
“Let’s be real.” She flicks her wrist, making her fork dance in the air. “If he knew ‘grip’ was my job description, he wouldn’t be acting like it’s a general instruction.”
She tilts her head up and looks far away and a little dreamy for a second. Then she shakes her head and huffs out a laugh. “I have no idea why he thinks actors need emotional support people in the wings, but at least it means I get a daily hug.”
“Is he even interested in drama?”
“Nope,” she pops out.
“Then why’s he doing it?”
“Because he lost a bet with one of his buddies on the lacrosse team. He told us this in his audition, but the second the director heard him sing, he said they didn’t care why he was here; we needed him.”
“And he hasn’t quit?”
“Nope. He said in lacrosse you never quit, so he’s going to see this through, which means I’m going to get a cuddle from the prince before every show.”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “Does anyone know this is happening?”
“Oh, everyone knows. That’s the worst part.
The director keeps looking the other way because Ryan has been nailing the blocking, and the stage manager keeps making this face like—” she pulls her mouth into a pained, helpless grimace.
“Like someone who’s watching a slow-motion car crash and can’t do anything about it. ”
“Well, why haven’t you said anything to Ryan?”
“Mhm. I have said several things to Ryan.”
“About the cuddling?”
She pauses. “...Those specific words have not been exchanged, no.”
I laugh so hard it echoes around the dining hall, drawing the attention of a couple of freshmen in the corner. I smile sheepishly before turning back to Stevie, waiting for an explanation.
“In my defense,” Stevie says, pointing her fork at me, “it would be a much easier conversation to have if he weren't so—” She gestures with both hands, a vague but comprehensive gesture that covers height, shoulders, the general situation.
“Hot?”
“Hot.” She confirms with a nod and a pained expression. “When he wraps his arms around me, I just... I feel things. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s like having a lovable, blanket keeping me warm.”
“Are you sure it’s not just his cape?”
“Oh, it’s definitely not the cape, I promise you. Last night when we were rehearsing, he held my hand, and I felt it physically shaking. He’s scared, and I worry that if I tell him that it’s not appropriate, he’s going to lose his nerve and quit right before the start of the show.”
“So your current strategy is to say nothing, let him keep grabbing you, and hope it resolves itself naturally?”
She takes a bite of her lunch and finishes swallowing before answering.
I know a girl who’s stalling when I see one.
“No. My current strategy is to give it until opening night. I’m hoping that when he goes out there and performs in front of everyone, he’ll realize he can do it, and then he won’t be so scared.
Once he’s over his stage fright, I can have the conversation without him bolting. ”
“That’s a good strategy.”
“I know.” She smiles smugly. “I surprised myself too.”
“What if it doesn't work?”
She waves her fork. “Then I enjoy the arms until closing night and reevaluate our situationship at the end.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling, enjoying this conversation more than I should. It’s just so... normal, and that’s what I was missing all this time.
“I heard him singing on the stage for the first time last night.” Her eyes light up, and she leans forward.
“We were doing the ballroom scene during rehearsal, and when the pianist started playing, Ryan just—” She closes her eyes briefly.
“Opened his mouth, and Honey, I felt things in places that I didn’t think possible. ”
I wince, not needing that kind of detail.
“You know that feeling when a song comes on and you didn’t know you needed it, but then you do and your whole chest just feels like it collapsing in on itself?” She presses her hand flat to her sternum.
“I know the feeling.” I used to get it at every one of Zach’s games when the crowd would cheer so loudly it would flow through every part of me.
“It was like that. For four full minutes, I forgot I was standing in the wings holding a cable, and I thought it was just him and me in the theater, and he was going to come over and grip me with all his might.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. He had no idea that I was floating on air because of it, but that’s okay. I’ve been told my thoughts can get a little aggressive at times.”
“You should just ask him out.”
“What makes you think I’m interested in dating him?”
I lift my finger, listing all the reasons. “Well, you’ve just told me that he’s hot, he likes to grab you when he’s nervous and he can sing. Sounds like the full package.”
“Yeah, but what would Professor TooHotToHandle think if I suddenly start walking around campus with a lacrosse player on my arm?”
I raise a brow. “Probably the same thing he thinks about you now.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is that your way of telling me that his opinion won’t change because he doesn’t have an opinion on me?”
I raise my hands, unable to hide my smile. “You said it. Not me.”
“Wow.”
“I’m just saying, for all we know, Professor Stephenson is married, so don’t hold yourself back because you’re waiting on something to happen with him.”
“Oh, is this your way of telling me there’s something going on between you and Professor Stephenson?”
“What?!”
She raises her hands. “I’m just saying, you do spend a lot of time with him after classes end.”
“That’s because he’s helping me with my book.”
Her lips flatten and then pull into a smile. “I mean it’s a good cover for an affair.”
“It’s not a cover. Believe me, I’m not interested.”
She barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re too easy. I know you’re not interested.”
“You do?”
She nods. “I know you’ve got some secret athlete man you text.”
I look up. “What are you—”
“Don’t deny it, Honey. You’re the only person immune to Professor Bae, and that can only be because you have someone better.”
I look up. “How did you know that?”
“You do this thing.” She sets her fork down so she can do an impression of me. She drops her chin slightly, as she looks at her phone. The ghost of a smile appears on her face before she pushes the phone away and frowns. “About twice a lunch.”
“Oh, man.”
“I get it. You have a secret boyfriend at most, a late-night booty call at least. Both are perfectly acceptable, and I’m happy for you.”
Guilt pools in my stomach because I haven’t been honest with Stevie. We’ve been hanging out all semester, and I’ve been keeping one of the most important parts of my life a secret. It’s not because I’m ashamed of it, but because I didn’t want history to repeat itself.
Every time I feel like I fit in, Jenni comes back to the forefront of my mind, and I worry I’ve made the same mistake all over again.
“Who knows, maybe Ryan and I will end up in some lacrosse / drama relationship, and I’ll be acting all secretive, like you, too.”
I push out a laugh.
Stevie isn’t Jenni. I know that. I trust my gut enough this time. There’s no ulterior motive with her.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I clarify as I instinctively glance down at my phone. I always do when I think about Zach.
“Oh, he’s not?”
No. He’s more.
I don’t say it. I keep it to myself, because then I open up our complicated dynamic to scrutiny.
“Not really. We have a long history.” I turn the coffee cup in my hands. “It’s been complicated for a long time, but we’re talking again, and it’s good. Better than good. Great, actually.”
“Aww. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve stopped joking about you and Professor Hotness immediately.”
“I just sometimes prefer to keep things private.”
She nods, and looks at me with so much understanding that it actually makes me want to continue opening up.
“I had a close friendship at my last college, and I gave her a little too much information before I really knew her. It didn’t—” I shake my head. “It didn’t go well.”
“Okay.” She says it simply, no follow-up questions, no pressing for detail. “Well, I'm not her.”
“I know.”
“And I'm not asking you to tell me everything.” She tilts her head. “I've just been watching you smile at your phone for nine weeks, and I wanted you to know that I noticed. That's all.”
“I’ll try to be a little more subtle.”
“Not necessary. Is he good to you?” she asks.
What a question to ask.
Is he good to me?
Is the sun hot? Is the world round?
He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s always seen me for who I am, even when I don’t know who that person is. He accepts me. He tries every day to be better. To give me space. He gives me the confidence to want something more for myself.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s really good to me.”
“And you're figuring it out.”
“We're figuring it out,” I confirm. “From a distance.”
She nods, satisfied, and picks up her coffee. “Okay.” Then, after a beat: “Is he at least as hot as Professor I’mNotListening?”
I laugh before I can stop it, loud enough that the freshmen in the corner look over again, annoyed. I don’t care. If he wants to study, he should do it in the library.
“That's a yes,” Stevie says.
“That's none of your business.”
She grins. “Good. You deserve someone with good glutes.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Stevie claps, looking down at my ringing phone. “Oh, is that him? I bet he has a deep voice. You look like the type that would be into that.”
I shake my head and pick up my phone.
“It’s not him, he’s at—”
I don’t finish because the second I see who’s calling; I answer.
“Mike? Is everything okay?”
“Olivia’s in labor,” he says quickly.
Labor?
The baby is coming.
My heart beats faster and I stand without really thinking.
“She wanted me to tell you.”
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Everything’s good. We’re already at the hospital. It’s early, but they’re saying it’s progressing fast.” He pauses when someone starts to talk to him. “I’ve got to go. Olivia wants some ice.”
“Of course.” I have to stop myself from blurting out everything I’m thinking, so I opt with, “Tell her I love her. Tell her she’s going to be incredible. Tell her—”
“I’ll tell her,” he says. “And I’ll keep you updated.”
“Please. Every update. I don’t care what time it is.”
“Yeah.” I can hear him smiling. “I know you don’t.”
“Go be with her.”
“Going.”
He hangs up.
I stand there for a second with my phone in my hand, feeling shocked, but I shouldn’t be. Olivia was thirty-seven weeks pregnant.
Stevie is watching me.
“Hey.” Her voice is different. “What’s wrong?”
I look up and blink back the tears. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right.”
I smile. I can’t help it.
“Olivia is having a baby. My best friend,” I say. “Right now. She’s—” I stop and press my lips together. “I’m just so happy for her.”
Stevie looks at me for a second.
Then she reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine and doesn't say anything at all. She just motions for me to sit down.
When I do, I hold my phone and wait for the first update.
I should have been there. I should have been on a plane the second she hit thirty-six weeks. I knew this was coming. I just didn't know it was coming today.